


One Alone Looks Out (The French Kiss Remix)

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleur Delacour was not having a happy Christmas at the house of her future in-laws ... until Sirius Black returned from the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Alone Looks Out (The French Kiss Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Prodigal](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3162) by Midnitemaraud_r. 



> Written for Remix 2006.

Strange how a day could turn from bad to good to bad again. Until the bedraggled, black-haired man appeared on the Burrow's front doorstep, Fleur Delacour had not been having a happy Christmas. She'd been trying to get along with her future in-laws, but they – Molly and Ginny, specifically – had not been making things easy.

First Molly had put Fleur and Bill in separate rooms, as if they were silly children who could not be trusted together. As if they were not adults, engaged to be married! Fleur had been made to room with Ginny, who was sullen and sarcastic, and Hermione Granger, who at least spoke a little French, but had her nose in a book most of the time. Bill had been put with the twins, probably, Fleur thought, because Molly had wanted two pairs of eyes watching her eldest son, not just one.

Since then, Fleur had been subjected to Arthur's polite indifference, Ron's inept flirting, the twins' scrutiny, the depressing presence of Remus Lupin, Celestina Warbeck's vocal antics, an empty bed, a _line_ for the bathroom, glares, gibes, and English cooking.

Molly hadn't even knitted a jumper for her, as she'd done for her husband and children. As she'd done for Harry Potter and Hermione, who were not even _engaged_ to any of her children.

"Oh," Molly had said when Bill had asked her if she'd misplaced Fleur's jumper. "No. I just – couldn't decide which color would look best on her. And what with one thing and another – all these guests, and poor Tonks all alone – I just…"

Coming down the staircase, Fleur had only overheard the exchange, and it had seemed to her that Molly had at least sounded contrite. Still, the words had struck her and she'd thought with a combination of sadness and defiance, _But I look good in every color._

Then, during a rather bland lunch on Christmas Day, a gigantic, mangy mutt had shown up, transformed into a man claiming to be Sirius Black returned from the dead – and things had improved considerably.

Fleur had known about Sirius Black vaguely. She'd been aware of the fact that the Ministry and most of wizarding Britain thought him to be one of the Dark Lord's most faithful followers, a traitor, and a murderer. But Bill had informed her that the Ministry had got it wrong, that Black was really all right – well, _had_ been, before he'd died.

Since then, the Ministry had pardoned him officially, though, according to Bill, most wizards had yet to accept it. Seeing Sirius in person for the first time, Fleur had believed that she could see why most wizards thought the worst of him: he looked frightful. And apparently he'd looked just as frightful even before he'd died. Or disappeared. Or whatever had really happened.

Still, his reappearance had caused Molly to faint twice and had produced the first emotional response from Remus Lupin that Fleur believed she had ever seen.

So, that had been all right.

For a while.

There'd been hugs and tears and attempts at explanations. There'd been pudding. Then, one by one, the Weasleys and their guests – Fleur included – had drifted upstairs to their bedrooms, leaving Sirius and Remus in the living room together.

"I'm glad you mentioned Tonks," Bill had whispered to Fleur as they'd said goodnight on the second floor landing.

"Well," Fleur had said, finding a smile for him, "you were all—" She'd fumbled for the word.

"Inept?" Bill had supplied, grinning down at her.

"Yes," she'd said, not really sure. "Een-ept. I am…sorry for her." Though she hadn't been entirely sure; it was hard to imagine any young woman lovesick for a man who was old, poor, depressing, and not terribly handsome. And queer, she'd thought, kissing Bill's cheek, and turning to go. Poor Tonks.

Upon reaching the door to the room she was sharing with Ginny and Hermione, she'd overheard the two girls talking, and so she'd paused just outside, and listened.

"I suspected something last year," Hermione had said in a superior sort of voice. "I didn't say anything, because no one would have believed me, but there were times—"

"It's too bad about Tonks," Ginny had interrupted. "But I reckon— Well, once Mum's recovered from the shock, she'll do something. I mean, Tonks'll realize she _couldn't've_ had Remus and – I don't know. Maybe she'll go for Bill. Wouldn't that be brilliant?"

Well.

Fleur's mood had swung like a pendulum, back to what it had been that morning. She could have breezed into the room and acted as if she'd heard nothing. Or she might have hinted that she had, let the little _dears_ deal with that. She'd drawn a deep, ragged breath and squared her shoulders – and found that she couldn't walk forward, could only turn and walk back to the stairs.

And so now she sat a few steps above the first floor landing, her elbows on her knees, her cheek resting against her knuckles, while the evening plodded toward full night and invisible doors slammed all around her. There were lights in the rooms below, but to Fleur they seemed very far away, as if she hung alone in space and watched the Earth below.

Remus and Sirius were talking. Fleur did not want to listen, but there were no other sounds. She couldn't even hear the ghoul.

Sirius said, "God. To look at you…" and she imagined him studying Remus with those bloodshot grey eyes. Neither of them were particularly handsome, Fleur thought, though she knew that Sirius had been, before Azkaban. Still, there'd been something compelling about his face, something magnetic that was actually better than handsomeness. He reminded Fleur of some of the heroes in the romances she occasionally read. Chiseled. Tormented. Very nice.

"No," Remus said. Fleur had to strain to hear him. "To look at you. There are so many things I need to say. So many questions I want to ask you. I don't quite know where to begin."

 _If my lover,_ Fleur thought, _had just returned from the dead, I would not ask questions._

Remus didn't. There was some silence, then he said, "You're distracting me. How am I supposed to think when you do that?"

Fleur sighed loudly. Silly men. Badly as she wanted them to do something filthy on Molly's living room floor, it gave her a mean sort of pleasure to think that she might not be the only person disappointed tonight.

"We're going to have to work on your aim." Remus again. "It's a bit off." Then, "Decidedly off. Pads—"

 _Oh, kiss him!_ Fleur fumed silently, making a fist. _Just do it._

He must have, because that was the last she heard from either of them. After a few minutes, there was a pop like a Christmas cracker exploding, and blue sparks shot out of the darkness. Startled, Fleur slid up a step, but the sparks didn't reach her. Before her wondering, stinging eyes, they spiraled in a tight helix, which twisted in on itself, unfurled in a matrix that extended over the landing, and vanished.

Fleur blinked. She did not recognize the spell, but it must have been some sort of protective charm, perhaps a variation on the Imperturbability Charm. Just as well, she thought. She hadn't really wanted to observe the two men.

She supposed she ought to head up to bed. The sooner she was asleep, the sooner it would be the next day, the sooner she and Bill could leave. With luck, Hermione and Ginny would be asleep by the time she got to the bedroom, and she wouldn't have to listen to them whispering to each other.

She was about to get up when she heard footsteps. It was Bill; she knew without looking. After a year, the tread of his feet was that familiar. He squatted beside her and she tried not to flinch when he touched her arm with his cool fingertips.

"Fleur…"

She turned her head so that her hair hung like a curtain between them. She did not want to look at him. He had done nothing wrong, but he had his family's features, and she had had enough of those for one holiday. When they were back at their flat, she would be able to look at the red hair, the blue eyes, and the faint dusting of freckles and see only Bill.

"Remus and See-rius are down there," she said, gesturing vaguely at the darkened floor below. "They are—"

"I can imagine," Bill cut her off. "Though I'd rather not." He didn't sound disgusted, only slightly uncomfortable.

"Poor Tonks," Fleur said because she could think of nothing else.

"Yeah. Look."

He'd come down here with a purpose, then.

"Fleur, I'm sorry about the way everyone's been acting. I _am_ ," he added, as if he thought she didn't believe him. "I— They're an odd lot. I mean, they're my family. Families are odd. Mine especially."

"Yes," Fleur said simply.

"Look at Percy, the bastard. He – I'm doing this wrong."

She shivered as his fingers moved from her arm to her hair. They brushed it away from her cheek, tucked it behind her ear.

"I mean," Bill began again, more softly. "They're nutters, all of them. But I love them. I love _you_ , too."

Fleur thought about Sirius. She suspected there was much he'd left out of the story he'd told them all earlier, but she'd been impressed by the lengths he'd admitted to having gone to be with the people he loved. Would Bill –?

She refused to wonder.

At least he was kissing her now, tentatively, as if he were afraid she'd pull away. She'd missed his lips and the taste of his breath. Holding hands and feeding each other chocolates last night had been pleasant, but not enough.

He muttered something about his family. She smiled because he'd used not only French but one of the most scathing epithets she'd taught him when he began studying her language.

"We can go away," he said in English. "Now, if you like. I'll leave a note for Mum and Dad. We can go back to our flat." He was nuzzling her neck, and the combination of lips and soft voice made her belly and lower parts tingle. She squeezed her legs together.

 _Not now. Not on his parents' steps._

Though Sirius and Remus had not seemed to care about propriety.

 _It's different for them. They've been through so much._

But then Bill looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close against his chest and Fleur thought, _So?_

She was happy for Sirius and Remus, though she barely knew them, and hoped they were enjoying themselves far below. She hoped that they acted very smug tomorrow morning, just for Molly's benefit. Perhaps she, Fleur, would suggest to Molly that they write to Tonks. Molly might appreciate that.

And if she did not…

"Whatever you decide," Bill murmured, "I won't let them get to you. They're my family and I love them, but they don't get to tell me what to do. I choose. And I've already chosen you."

Nice words. Combined with the soft rumble of his voice against her skin, they made the tingle between her legs flare into something a bit more intense.

If Bill had chosen, so had Fleur. She would stay. And why not? She'd grown up knowing that there were few people she could not charm if she had the time. Not that she truly cared about charming anyone but Bill.

Who had cupped her face between his big hands and was lowering his mouth to hers.

She tilted her head back and met his lips with her own.

She would stay and fight for this.

03/15/2006


End file.
